Woman

The story goes like this…steeped in mysticism and folklore…and you know why it is so important???

Because India, the country from which the myth originates is repulsed by women bleeding or MENSTRUATION! Therefore it is time to bring the narrative of the pussy and the power of the SACRED blood back into collective consciousness.

I am a woman who is truly appreciative of the womb energy.

Understanding the operations of my SACRAL CHAKRA opened up my creativity in ways I cannot express. I found balance as I embraced my Pussy. The literal and also the metaphoric. My pussy links me to the Goddess sitting atop the blue hills in Assam. Her yoni and mine are connected. It flows with feminine intuitive juices that can nurture and create.

Kamakhya resonates and glistens with the halo of untold spiritual energies. A YONI or VAGINA is worshiped here, see I was not kidding. There is no image of the GODDESS, none at all. The YONI is all.

This story dates back to antiquity and lies shrouded in the mists of the PRE-VEDIC ERA.

Back to vagina worship…has a nice ring to it…

Shocked that people can do such a thing? In fact, vagina worship is known to be found in cross-cultural societies. Take Japan for instance. Find a small cave in Yeddo and inside is a HUGE YONI propitiated by many. And even BRAHMA was told to begin creation of the MANVANTARA after meditating on the YONI!

Heavy PUSSY POWER there! KAMAKHYA was the ULTIMATE SYMBOL of FERTILITY. The maiden is now ready to become a mother with the seed given to her by the penis or the male energy. The sperm is considered sacred in tantra, but more so…the blood of a menstruating woman.

Shiva told Parvati that any human being who has this text book in their home will never want for anything. What does this mean? Shiva is the male/active principle who impregnates the feminine, Parvati. She who is the female embodiment symbol and they join in MAITHUNA to manifest the world. So with the CORRECT KNOWLEDGE of this tantra, one can gain enlightenment. With enlightenment comes peace, bliss and tranquility. There is no lack or want in samadhi. No desire when the male/female polarities are balanced.

Therefore with the use of KAMAKHYA TANTRA, it is possible to gain liberation and break out of the samsaric wheel. In the KALIKA PURANA, it is clearly stated that the GREAT COSMIC YONI is placed on the NILGIRI HILLS in Assam, India. That place vibrates with the sacred feminine energy of the YONI. The Yoni or Pussy is the greatest creative force, the womb is the ultimate MOTHER of all.

Kamakhya (Assamese: কামাখ্যা দেৱী), also known as Siddha Kubjika,is an important Hindu Tantric goddess of desire who evolved in the Himalayan hills. She is worshiped as Siddha Kubjika, and is also identified as Kali and Maha Tripura Sundari. Her name means “renowned goddess of desire,” and she resides at the presently rebuilt Kamakhya Temple in 1645 C. The temple is primary among the 51 Shakti Peethas related to the sect that follows Sati, and remains one of the most important Shakta temples and Hindu pilgrimage sites in the world.~~WIKI

The tantric texts refer to her as MAHAMAYA or the GREAT GODDESS OF ILLUSION and in KALIKA PURANA, she is said to be the most important Devi to be worshiped to gain moksha. SHODOSHI, one of the emanations of the GREAT MOTHER is said to be her and she is very close to DURGA.

KAMAKHYA is visualized as a young girl of about 16 years old, with twelve arms and six heads of varying colors. The number of limbs and hands signify that she is OMNIPOTENT, OMNISCIENT and OMNIPOTENT. She is dressed as a young bride, wearing a red saree with ornate jewelry. The hibiscus is her favourite flower, like Kali.

She holds a lotus, trident, sword, bell, discus, bow, arrows, club or scepter, goad, and shield in each of ten hands. The two remaining hands hold a bowl. It can be of gold, but more often it is a KAPAAL or a skull. She emanates from a LOTUS which has emerged from SHIVA’S navel, who in turn lies atop a lion.

Brahma and Vishnu, each seated upon a lotus are found flanked on her two sides.

The mention of KAMAKHYA temple can be found in a number of texts. BRIHADARANYA PURANA, KALIKA PURANA, TANTRACHURAMANI, YOGINI TANTRA, DEVIBHAGAVATAM and DEVI PURANA to name a few.

To understand the mythology of KAMAKHYA you have to understand the SATI EPISODE.

Explore the myth of SATI on Wiki to get a context of what happens next.

Cut back to my story…

SHIVA was dancing the tandav with SATI on his shoulders and the world was coming to an end. It was the very apocalypse we fear. Then VISHNU had to use the SUDARSHAN CHAKRA to sever the body of SATI. Her body parts scattered all over the world and in KAMAKHYA, her YONI or VAGINA landed.

As her vagina touched the earth, it metamorphosed to a stone. The same stone we know lies in the temple today. The public is not allowed to see the real stone.

Although the temple of KAMAKHYA has its origins before the Vedic civilization. There were people of KIRATA origin, PRE-VEDIC who offered worship to a GODDESS on this spot by sacrificing pigs! Yikes!

These people were MATRILINEAL and worshiped the FEMININE.

BTW, according to legend, no one can ever touch the Yoni of the Goddess. If you do so, you can get infected and become a STONE MAN, GOT style. The myths speak of metals like iron smelting in contact to the Yoni!

SHIVA, the masculine principle settled his essence in the stone that was once SATI’S Yoni and that is how creation found balance again. This story speaks of so much. It tells us how the feminine must be as grounded as a rock to bear creation. The male can only then settle in her and thrust his sperm. If the WOMB is not ready to receive, then there is no creation. That is why SILENCE and STILLNESS are huge parts of the feminine expression.

It is also said that there is water or some type of liquid all the way down to PATALA or the Netherworld. The vagina is connected to all the worlds, because it is out of her that reality arose.

KAMAKHYA is the GODDESS principle and she manifests as PRAKRITI or nature and natural laws. The stone that is the representation of the yoni has a natural spring that flows through it. This water is sacred and during AMBUBACHI, which is the time of MENSTRUATION of the Goddess, this water turns red. No one knows why. This sacred blood is collected in tiny red cotton cloths and given to people as PRASAD.

During her menstruation, the temple remains closed for maybe three days and the AMBUBACHI MELA takes place in full swing. No one sees the Yoni of course, it is like 20 feet below ground level and sits inside a cave. In the temple, there is a stone that is a symbol of the Yoni below.

I have been to the temple during the AMBUBACHI. But that was ages ago. In fact I have a plan to live for the whole duration of this festival to shoot and interview people for my upcoming videos on Tantra. That is something I am dying to do.

Very many powerful sadhakas, tantrics, bhairavis, yogis, yoginis and many other interesting people appear here during the Ambubachi mela and that time is awesome for content creation. And during breaks, practice tantra. How sublime would that be? Maybe you’d want to join in for this adventure? Let me know.

If you want to study about KAMAKHYA and learn her arts, then drop me an email.

I am not going to pretend that I’m this master story teller, in fact I’m seriously beginning to question my choice of vocation as writer/ filmmaker. No HD has my film on it and the analogue era was before my time. I have made all these films, in my head. From script to post prod, I’ve created these monstrosities and they exist. Don’t know where, don’t know how, but they do. Mistakes are portals of discovery, right Joyce. Works every time, doesn’t it. But then you were seeking to be immortal, hence the elaborate subterfuge, but for me. I am the nothingness, the mistake. These films that I’ve made in my mind, over and over, lead me nowhere in the real world, for they don’t exist. Neither does she, but there she is, invading my senses, my ideas, my dreams.

I think of these bizarre stories and it’s not even that I write them, they write themselves. I’m just their victim. They laugh at me, they torment me, they wake me up at four in the morning in jest, they drive me insane tossing and turning in bed at night. They are my oppressors. Not always. There is a friendly angle to our relationship. It does exist.

To the world, I’m this depressed writer who types away for hours on end on her laptop, writing God knows what. I’m in the fraternity of paid-poorly writers who are paid next to nothing to develop content. That’s my day job, at night I’m batwoman! You wish right?

I write screenplays and then make my films over and over again. And then there are these surfeits I have to deal with, like my friends from these stories, they begin to cohabit with me. These characters, they decide to pop right out of the Final Draft document and strut their stuff in front of me. There’s a reason why I’m constipated. How do you drop the excrement off your body when someone is reciting to you, a fluke line out of Keats, or no Shelley, I think. The Romantics definitely. Or you have this beer bar dancer doing make up! She keeps wanting to know if she’s looking saxy, not sexy, but saxy.

How the fuck is someone to shit in peace? Then there’s this boxer, he’s got tuberculosis and I write about it. Bam! I develop this terrible cough and an unbearable pain in the chest. The next day, I go to clear my throat and the phlegm sitting in the basin has blood. What does the boxer do? He laughs at me.

Then there are these pregnant women. I don’t think I’ll get into that right now, but yes you guessed it right. My periods stopped coming. Who could be the father? There were three possible candidates, but no one I could discuss this with. Not like they were my live-in boyfriends. They were nothing, not even friends. I stared at the pregnancy stick, yes, two lines. It didn’t matter how many times I re-took that test, it was the same. Now I’m no fool, I use protection. So did it not work? Did the bloody condom burst? Am I… I don’t think I could bring myself to voice that word. PREGNANT!!! I was and I did what I had to.

Not only am I plagued by these people, but strangely the things I write come to pass. No don’t think of it as some kind of gift, it’s a fucking curse actually. It might have been a gift if all I wrote about was unicorns and fairies, but here I sit in silence and type away. What do I see? The desperate situation we’re in, yes us humans. I see the pain, no I think it’s more like I am in pain. I suffer day and night, sometimes with reason, sometimes without. I’m just a sucker for pain and my heart is perpetually broken. These films that I make are extensions of my tragic self and the most persistent theme of them is suicide.

You can say that I have a morbid fascination for suicide. My mother committed suicide when I was four or five, her mother too killed herself and so did her father, so yes it kind of runs in the family. I’ve been subjected to hours and hours of counselling so I don’t jump off a high-rise or hang myself with a dupatta. Morons! As if those sessions helped.

You see to me suicide is an art-form. You’ve got to be an artist to kill yourself with grace. You’ve got to see the beauty in death and embrace it. You’ve got to worship the power you have, the power to decide when it’s over. There is no fucking God, there is just you and the choice is yours.

My mother named me Shambhavi, I have an abbreviated form that I’ve chosen- SHAM! Yes I’m a sham! I’m not artist, if I was then I’d have already created the master piece- my death! The suicide, but I am not an artist, just a writer.

There are these three projects that I’m working on- developing for filmmakers who are too lazy to write their own shit and need to hire morons like me. The boxer does tend to get on my nerves, otherwise I am actually pretty involved with the rest. They tell me what to write and I do. It seems to be working. Of course there are times when these directors feel the need to impose upon my feeble intellectuality and ask me to make corrections. Temper tantrums will be thrown, but somehow we manage. We don’t exist without each other. We need each other.

Then there are these turbulent characters that take birth from my mind. They wreak havoc on my life, depressed, suicidal, maniacal, it’s difficult to deal with them. There is no sense of closure, no sense of comfort with them, only angst is the best way I could describe the feeling.

I have also tried setting MSS on fire, but once they’ve been conceived of in my head, there is no annihilating them. They are a part of my life, actually these creatures are my life whether I like it or not. The only way I can get rid of them is to finally begin work on the masterpiece.

It was so strange, when I met her that night. She stood in front and for the life in me, I couldn’t fathom her identity. There was something so familiar about her. P.S- I don’t subscribe to God or reincarnation. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive as I did when I saw her.

Don’t ask me how I landed up there, but I’ve had such strange and absurd situations happening to me recently that I just let go and watched her. She was tiny and her hairdo reminded me some old flick on Joan of Arc. Dressed in all black, there was this pendant around her neck, a spiral in jade and it looked like a fern would spring right out of it. Waist-upwards she had this sphinx like quality, her short crop was unkempt, her bangs fell on her forehead. She blinked her eyes through thick glasses as she looked at me. It had to be me, right. There was nobody else there, just a cat.

She lumbered across the vast living room. I could see her legs did not carry her well and she was stooping. There was a fire in her eyes which I could see even through those thick glasses. She sat right in front with a cuppa tea. I was not offered any. We sat like that for I don’t know how long. I was looking to say something. “Hello, I’m Sham,” “Hello, I’m a sham.” But I said nothing.

There was something that caught my eyes- an old calendar that screamed 1922.

Okay officially I have lost it, I know it to be 2017, not 1922. That made me look around. The deco was very vintage English, complete with Victorian furniture and then there were books. Quite a collection! I could happily bury myself in there for the rest of time and not bother about those people who live in my head or even the person in front with her sparkly eyes. She was not old, maybe thirty, but she looked much older. Her body was bent out of shape and her face showed signs of physical pain. I could tell she was sick and ailing. I looked on.

That belligerent and witty tongue could lash out at me, but it remained mute. It could raise a tempest but the waters remained still.

“You know I want to be like those ballerina’s of Dega, frozen in their graceful posture…” Those were the first words that came out of her mouth.

A reply, it came quite effortlessly. Then I bit my tongue. Crap! I sound like an idiot, I thought. “But those ballerinas are frozen, there is no life in them. They’re dead, like dolls…”

She threw her head back and laughed. That sound awakened a primal part of me and the ballerinas of Dega were right in front of me, suspended in space. There was this one figure of a ballerina and right next to her was this strange woman whose face you could not see, hidden by a hat in black attire and they both seemed to be waiting. It felt like us, that moment that time. I felt like the ballerina, massaging her foot in eager anticipation to perform and she was like the chaperon, waiting for that moment when I would set the stage on fire, pushing my body for fleeting moments of grace that would captivate one and all. I do that every day. I push my mind so I could come up with that work of art that would have entire generations enthralled, now you see what a SHAM I AM.

She wanted to be like those ballerinas. Why? Did she not feel their pain, their exhaustion? Did she want to be frozen in time?

“I never leave the house anymore and don’t like having servants,” She told me.

“T.B is painful and in 1920 it is incurable and you also have gonorrhoea, you must be in severe pain, most of the time.” I replied.

“You speak as if you come from some other world.” You can tell the gutsy woman she is.

“I come from the future…” I burst out laughing as I said it. “It sounded like some corny Sci-fi that no one would go to watch.

“You mean the motion picture…” She sounded interested, but then who is not interested in film.

“It’s very interesting that you would bring up the motion picture, because I have this story that I’m working on and the protagonist makes motion pictures, but from a feminine perspective, you know…”

I knew. “You want to explore the feminine angle? You seem content telling us stories through the male POV, Point of view…” I had to explain as she had no idea. Feminism, not one of her strong points.

But then what do you expect from her in 1910? Seems a bit bizarre, absurd if you ask me. I reach out in my pocket to stroke my I phone 6. The screen is cracked, just like my life.

You do not abandon your husband in 1920, you’re a woman and your place is right by his side. There are no other options, do not seek them. She seemed to know about real people, not some theoretical characters, but people of flesh and blood. That captivated me for years. How does a woman of her class and upbringing understand the human condition that well?

How does a marriage last only a day? There are no answers to such theoretical questions? Are writers really so crazy to get married to see what it feels like? Is this research? What is a marriage anyway? There was so much to talk about, but we sat silent.

CHAPTER 2

MANSFIELD’S POV

The tuberculosis has drained all my energy, the pelvic pain is getting worse, but my dream portrayal must continue, if anything today there is a seeing that I have felt. It’s not writing, it’s seeing. There are moments when I see all black before my eyes, need to sit down and gather myself, but the imaginative process never stops, it’s akin to breathing.

Much of my work remains unpublished and there are days when I lovingly gaze at them as a sign of acknowledgement and appreciation. Writing or rather seeing is a need and it must be done. In fact this sabbatical from my amorous lifestyle has given me time to write and I am thankful for it for all my stories come from the depths of my being.

Bliss and other Stories has just been published this year and it seems to be doing rather well. But there is suddenly a story inside me. I don’t even know what it is, suddenly I see Maata’s face and her breasts like a motion picture, a silent film and once again I’m back in the Hippodrome and I see the audience. Predictable! Their hands, their heads, their expressions.

I dreamt a story last night, every little detail etched in my mind, down to the smells and sounds and I was a part of it.

I see her eyes. A dark melancholia! An intense hankering for experience in the world of echoes and shadows. Who is she? She could be my alter ego. Her olive skin glows like logs burning at the fireplace, her long, dark hair is threaded like the negroes. Her mind is where she lives, the outside world has no fixity for her. I remember gazing at the audience, why not, I was a part of them. In this story I’m a part of both- I am her and I am the audience.

This story about her, this absurd protagonist who writes these films. Could it be that she makes them? Lumbering away with that heavy contraption of a camera? Who knows in the future there just maybe such women? I’d have loved to discover that platform.

Story-tellers tell stories, it doesn’t matter what the medium is. I have been told my writing is descriptive, just like the way they do it in the studios in America. I could have gone there, but travel for me is not a possibility. It’s why I cannot even go home- New Zealand!! Oh my pain and pleasure.

I’ve been criticized, compared to Chekov, snubbed for my hankering to be free, my will, my feisty nature, but people forget I’m just human. Where is the time? I’ve lost so much, I’ve gained so much. I have cried, I have laughed, I have lived and now I will die.

But this story, it wants to be written. Murray will surely publish most of my work even though I’ve told him not to. It sells, my writing and so shall its fate be, it’ll be sold! I need to sit down on days when the pain is bearable and write. I want to give my readers hope, yes everything is twisted, but there is hope. I was tired of reading every single thing out there from the perspective of a man, I mean how long is society going to ignore us? The fact that the women in my stories have decided to speak up shows me there is hope for us. Our voices need to be heard.

The Fourth way may just be my way, reading Gurdjeiff is a complicated process, yes it has opened up new portals to my experiencing life, but then there is so much left to be discovered and do I have time? Regret, don’t we all have a pinch of that with every sip of life we take. I for one, am swamped with regret. I regret my childhood, I regret the taunts and mocking because of my rather hilarious glasses, I regret not writing more often, I regret not supporting the women’s suffragette in the U.K, I regret not being vocal about it, I regret not telling Maata how much I loved her, I regret my obsession with Chekov. No I take that back, no regrets there. I regret my brother dying like that. I can still see him in uniform, bloody and dusty.

Although I have been quoted as saying that I do not regret anything. I have asked my readers to never regret, but that is only the half truth. Yes regret is an appalling waste of energy and nothing can be built on it, but it exists. I wish I could just erase it away. REGRET ERASED!

The Work must be done, it’s 1922 and here I am in colonial India, Calcutta to be precise, all alone. A sick white woman in the midst of all these natives.

Then I saw her, she was vibrant, her olive skin was smooth as it tasted the Sunlight which played on it and created so many hues that I just watched. I don’t know how she arrived right in front of me, definitely not dressed like the ordinary native girls or like an English lady. She had on trousers like men, I think they’re called denims. The road workers in America wear them as overhauls. I never expected a woman to dress in them and then her long, dark negro like hair. I thought she was a figment of my imagination, the medicines playing a trick on me. After all I was a sick woman. I waited for the apparition to disappear. But she sat there and just stared back. I think we briefly spoke, about Dega’s ballerina’s, but it made no sense.

Theosophy and Gurdjeiff! You know the three types of men or women found in this world- those that are centred in their physical bodies, then the ones centred in their emotional space and those that focus on their minds. What type am I? I have never been able to quantify myself in any one category, I’m indeed a mixture of all three. I have lived centred in the physical, more than not I have existed only in my emotions and then of course my mind is one of my favourite places to visit and spend some time. So yes, I’m a bit of all. All writers are as we have all these stories inside us where we become those people when we write them.

I remember alluding to this story of this woman who makes motion pictures, these dreamy silent films. I think she is my protagonist.

Right now, all I can think of is Van Gogh’s painting- the self portrait. I consider myself a writer/painter. I paint too like Van Gogh, I paint with words.

I just wish I had more time. I want to be healthy again, to experience a full, living-breathing life. I want to be with the Earth and see all the wondrous things- the sea and its infinite waves, the mellow Sunrise of a perfect morn.

I know I exist in this state of hypnotic waking sleep. I want to wake up and I’m willing to see if the Method will help. This story needs to be written. I need to find her again. That woman, no she’s more like a girl. I need to find her.

And then I see it, the Insect scuttles away and there are these strange voices that I can hear. Sounds like some Hindu chants. What is it?

Is my illness getting the better of me? I see myself, is it me or some other woman, no wait it’s her, dressed as Van Gogh, holding a gun to her face. She pulls the trigger!

I see a thick manuscript by the coffee table and note that’s its rather gloomy this afternoon, the wind shakes the trees so. Flashes trouble me- I think I see Lawrence. Murray tells me that THE LOST GIRL is modelled on me. I know, I know that my writing and me in person have had a significant influence on him, and he’s drawn parallels between me and some of his noteworthy characters, but why do I see him, in Colonial India?

My neighbour from Cornwall, my friend, the eminent D.H. LAWRENCE. I am his Albina and we both struggle everyday for our independence and outcasts we’ve become. We shared a number of things in common, I was a colonial outsider; he was from a working-class mining town. I am more like Lawrence than anybody. We are unthinkably alike, in fact. Four of us did form a peculiar brief and uneasy friendship in bleak Cornwall, yet, I treasure those days.

And now I find this letter from Murray. It does nothing for my mood right now, but leafing through it seems to be my only option. So I do it.

“You are all about me – I seem to breathe you, hear you, feel you in me and of me.” I actually wrote those lines for him and felt like I was home in his tent, sitting at his table. It seems far away, back here dreaming of silent films and Virginia Woolf.

There were times when I wanted to strangle my beloved Murray. I go back in my mind to one such incident. It left a sour taste in my mouth. I was cruel, we were verbally bashing one another, oblivious of who was present. I’d like to think it was tragedy that kept us together.

There’s nothing I want more than a cigarette. The curls of smoke rise up to meet their oblivion as I take a pull. It calms my frayed nerves and I take a sip of the tea. Darjeeling tea from the foothills of the Himalayas, a colonial addiction. Tea snobbery!

As I relax, she appears in front of me. Seated in a cluttered desk, she seemed to be looking at something. It looked like a boo, but a light emanated from it. She seemed to be typing like it was some sort of type writer. I couldn’t see properly, the smoke and mist clouded my vision.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity. ~~ W. B. YEATS

Fragmented pieces swim in the seas of my consciousness. A cacophony of sounds. A kaleidoscope of lights. The moment is crackling with suspense as I know I am about to enter into one of the most prophetic visions I have ever had.

Chiron is retrograde in 29 degrees of Pisces which is my SEVENTH HOUSE. My Moon is here too and “Chiron can be thought of as a boat allowing us to cross the deep ocean providing navigation, direction and a safe passage to being who we are meant to be.” says Erin Frances, an eminent astrologer. Chiron is taking me for these astral journeys. Chiron is making me the wounded healer I am meant to be. Welcome to my LUCID ASTRAL VISION.

A tangled tapestry of sights and sounds.

EXT. WIDE MEADOW. TWILIGHT

A dripping sound, like a leaking tap. A female voice hums a lullaby. The sound of flapping wings is heard.

Then: A raw and primal, jagged and out of breath panting is heard.

FADE IN:

Tina, a girl of around nine years old is sprawled in the ground.

A HUMMINGBIRD flutters right in front of her.

She stares at it, steadies her breath and then reaches out to touch it.

The HUMMINGBIRD floats close. It approaches the girl and positions itself right in front of her eyes.

She stares at the bird’s pupils.

C.U of her pupils. They dilate.

She lets out a primal scram and touches her nose. A red line of blood runs down.

Slow Motion: The blood trickles to her knees and she looks down.

The HUMMINGBIRD flutters its wings and takes off.

Tina stares at it. Something coils in her stomach.

She begins to run towards the HUMMINGBIRD that is now seen as a dot in the distance.

THUD. Tina falls through the proverbial rabbit hole.

Silhouettes of humans, beasts and hybrids dance in the shadows. Fear gripping her insides, she tries to look down.

She feels sick. The blood has now dried up.

The cacophony of voices swim into her consciousness from time to time.

VOICE 1: There she goes. Look there. Look at her.

VOICE 2: It’s all over. What now? Kaput!

Horrid laughter fills her ears, she falls to the floor, dishevelled and enervated.

Suddenly she can hear it. The flapping of the hummingbird. CLOSE ON HER EYES- she looks up with hope.

FADE TO BLACK:

That is how the vision began. I wrote it as a screenplay to give it that visual feel. To start you off with pictures. Can you visualise the little girl Tina around 9?

Let’s move on with the vision. This happened to me in broad daylight. Not while I was meditating. Not while I was dreaming, but while I was writing in front of my computer. The screen just began to fade to black and I could hear static noise. My psychic energy must have been at an all time high, because I had just started bleeding and it was the Capricorn FM next to dear Pluto. And of course I am going through some interesting alignments and aspects in my own life, astrologically speaking.

This has happened to me before. My visions come to me in wave patterns, totally non linear. I blank out and then return. I write about many such visions in my novel, THE PLAN which should be published soon. I have given them the garb of fiction, but they are in fact reality. Sometimes I can hear a piercing sound after these visions. I used to get headaches before, but now with my spiritual practices, I have managed to heal myself from all that left over psychic debris.

The Hummingbird has been visiting me since very long. In my dreams and in my visions. I never realised their connection to Mezoamerican civilisation when I was about twelve.

Now as you can see at the beginning of the lucid astral experience, I felt absolutely paranoid. I felt scared, fearful and abandoned. I felt like a helpless child of nine. But somewhere deep down that hummingbird gave me hope.

It was like a flicker of abject inspiration. My muse of last hours. It’s complicated to describe the way I felt. The Hummingbird flies off into the distance.

My phone rings. I go to answer it, but suddenly a video call comes through. Only this is no ordinary video call. It’s like a hologram popping out from my phone and standing right in front of me. This figure is straight from some computer game and she has a lower body, but three faces. Three distinct faces. They someone reminded me of the Morrigan, the triple Celtic Goddess. Though at that time I thought they were the three hags from Macbeth. I was frantic and out of breath.

There was a track playing in the background. I did not know for the life of me what language it was in. It sounded like it was played through a gramophone. My grandfather had one of those things and I was obsessed with it during my childhood.

The hologram of the Morrigan began to disintegrate. Like fragmented digital bits of information. Do you know I have seen the fragmentation of reality, MATRIX style, even before the film was made. I was very young when I first started to see reality breaking away into digital bits. Made sense to me with the computer revolution. My vision made sense. I had glimpsed into the matrix.

After this the SCREEN goes DARK. FADE TO BLACK:

Suddenly I am in Goa, by the beach, in a place called Small Vagator. I sit on the sands drawing a MANDALA in the sand awkwardly. The wind keeps slapping away my design, but I persist. No matter how hard I try, I am not being able to even draw a circle that will stay in the wind. Nothing stays. IMPERMANENCE. What a way to learn it?

The Monks actually do draw the MANDALAS with sand and then they destroy them after the ritual and meditation. Yes, even in complex initiation ceremonies like the KALACHAKRA TANTRA.

My conscious mind may be learning patience and perseverance by this apparently futile task of painting a mandala in the sand. If the wind doesn’t blow it away, the water will wash it off. Kind of like our lives. No matter how hard we try to hold onto things, they just slip away. The harder we try, the more frustrated we get. NOTHING REMAINS!

Reminds me of this poem of Tagore~~ Nothing lasts forever. Click the link to enjoy~

I look at the Goa seas. They look sunny and happy. But deep down I know there is a dark undertone there. In a second, the skies change. The sea roars and the waves dance ominously. But I sit there. I don’t know why? There is a sense of surrender with this task. Surrender to the force of the Earth who is my mother, my mentor and my guide.

Take me, I whisper. Take me. But no. It is not my time. The Hummingbird is back. Flapping its wings. A rebirth?

Looking up the hummingbird and Mayan connection I found Huitzilopochtli, the deity of war, sun, human sacrifice and the patron of the city of Tenochtitlan!

According to this legend, he was the smallest son of four—his parents being the creator couple Tonacatecutli and Tonacacihuatl while his brothers were Quetzalcoatl and the 2 Tezcatlipocas. His mother and father instructed both him and Quetzalcoatl to bring order to the world. And so, together they made fire, the first male and female humans, created the Earth, and made a sun. ~~WIKI

This archetypal myth resonates with me on such a deep level. It is the story of DOUBLE TWINFLAMES. Do you see it? The first pair of male, female. The creation myth!

He is a fire God, associated with the Sun(SOLAR DEITY) and I am also burning with this fire energy, so it made sense. My ruler is also the Sun! War? I am still exploring my connection to Mesoamerica by using a method called EVOLUTIONARY ASTROLOGY where you study the NODES OF THE MOON, the 12TH HOUSE, the 8TH HOUSE, SATURN, RETROGRADE PLANETS and INTERCEPTED PLANETS, SIGNS and HOUSES.

My NN is in Virgo and SN in Pisces. My 12th house is jampacked- Mercury, the Sun at 0 degrees, Saturn at 26 degrees in Leo! And I have a bunch of retrograde planets in my natal chart. Our bodies hold much of the old programming and it is the job of this 12th house to DESTROY those patterns once and for all. Losses and deaths! 12th house, the house which makes one a philosopher!

Another origin story tells of a fierce goddess, Coatlicue, being impregnated as she was sweeping by a ball of feathers on Mount Coatepec. Her other children, who were already fully grown, were the four hundred male Centzonuitznaua and the female deity Coyolxauhqui. These children, angered by the manner by which their mother became impregnated, conspired to kill her. Huitzilopochtli burst forth from his mother’s womb in full armor and fully grown. He attacked his older brothers and sister, defending his mother by beheading his sister and casting her body from the mountain top. He also chased after his brothers, who fled from him and became scattered all over the sky. ~~WIKI

The above story is so rich with symbolism and so pertinent to our times. Why can’t we all be like Huitzilopochtli? Why can’t we all protect the Earth? Isn’t she all our mother? Is that what the Hummingbird was telling me? To join in with my Twinflame and help the ascension process of our beloved Gaia.

The vision gets really complex now as I stand up to receive the HUMMINGBIRD in my hand. She lands perfectly and stares right at me. This time my heart fills with love and there is no fear. Yes the storm looms large. I am scared, but nope, I am not giving into fear or panic. nu-uh!

The Hummingbird kisses my fingers and takes off. The feeling is ethereal! The rain comes crashing down in a silvery sheet. The sound is deafening. I am soaking wet as I run to take shelter in the shack, but there is no one there. It is dark and nothing can be seen. There was a voice telling me, “You weren’t you, you were Tina…”

WTF? I am that person. I am Tina. Or am I? Who am I? Confusion was building inside.

The voice kept asking me, “So you believe? You believe?”

I wanted to scream. YES I BELIEVE. But believe what? I wanted to believe every single thing- life, death, sorrow, pleasure and pain. There is only believe in every fibre of my being!

Suddenly the rain quietened. I walk out to the beach, a wet mess. Not a person in sight. I have never seen that particular beach to look that empty. Not a soul in sight. I sat down as the Sun began to set.

Far away in the distance, I see this cloaked figure. Who is that out in the sea?

For a moment, I felt fear as the candle I light is blown away by the wind, and then a sudden warmth envelops me. The figure floats towards me. It is Mary Magdalene herself. She is the very feminine energy I dote on, my Beloved, my SPIRIT GUIDE. Today I sensed she wanted to be called Magdalene. Not anything else.

I must mention here that patriarchy has labelled Magdalene as a WHORE, because she was not like your common woman who wanted to just be a wife, mother and homemaker. Not that there is anything wrong with wanting any of that. It’s just that some women do not necessarily seek out that role. Like me. I never thought I would be someone’s wife, because marriage is a failed institution to me and the role of a stay at home wife never appealed to me. Motherhood is fantastic, but domesticity is not he be all and end all of my existence. And it never will be. I am forever a WANDERER, an Artist, a dreamer. Some women need to run wild and free. They cannot be chained and society should not try to.

Mary Magdalene is the WILD FEMININE ENERGY that is not meant to be a normal woman. Although she was a TANTRIC HIGH PRIESTESS they called her a prostitute. She was the wealth of the world, but they vilified her and degraded her sacredness to the point where she is forgotten in the world today. She is not one of the original disciples. No. She is a MASTER in her own right and taught Yeshua tantra. She is his yin, his balance. The mystic they called Jesus is her twinflame. On his name they started one of the most bloodiest religions in the world. That is what patriarchy has done for us. Taken sacred teachings from the feminine womb of wisdom and have corrupted and bastardised it to suit their own needs and agendas.

It was Mary Magdalene who initiated me in accepting myself as a sexual being. I fought long and hard against it. At a point I was having sex just to feel nothing. The act of being with someone became an addiction. A reason to stay away from feeling too deeply. Sex was never this magical and open, like so many women out there who hide their sexual feelings. 30% women regularly orgasm and an appalling number fake it. What else can they do? Expressing ourselves sexually would mean that we would be labelled and judged. Slut, bitch, whore etc. I do not care, but most women do, as they continue faking orgasms thinking sex is just a chore. Most women have sex to please their guys, without realising how much good sex would please them. The woman’s body is a pleasure trove. She has endless desires and a much stronger libido than men. Although she has been made to forget it. NEWSFLASH~~ LADIES, PLEASE STOP FAKING ORGASMS. You are spoiling the men. Show then what you like and how its done. Guide them.

Mary Magdalene showed me that not only is it okay to accept my sexual feelings, but to celebrate them, explore them. In fact, opening up to the sexual alchemy without guilt or shame has brought me closer to spirituality. I feel awakened in all ways, more than I have ever been. I feel creatively charged and connected to my twinflame. Ready to accept him inside of me. Makes me hot! I am in the process of making many life changing shifts and hopefully soon I will be in Goa able to connect to his energy. I know that is where I will meet him.

Doing away with old values, patterns can be hard, but it is worth the try. To live more authentically. When we face our inner demons, although sexuality is not a demon, but has been made into one by the fucking bourgeoisie. Societal hypocrisy is what gets me.

Mary Magdalene gave me a few messages for you and she has promised to help all of you heal your sexual wounds. She will also help you come to terms with your sexual desires.

CHANNELLED MESSAGES~~ Jotting them down randomly.

You can never experience twinflame love unless you love yourself.

Twinflame love is NOT ABOUT ROMANCE.

There is a strong sense of purpose.

There is a desire to heal people and the Earth and support the 5D ASCENSION PROCESS taking place.

Strengthen this new LIGHTWORKER ENERGY GRID.

Healing ancestral and familial wounds. Twinflames often incarnate with an imbalance in their early childhood so they can work through these issues and solve the. Although I come from a stable home, my life has been rocked by some hardcore events in my early childhood. I am working everyday to heal these scars. They are deep, but they will heal.

Twinflames, when they are done, will teach all of HUMANITY new things, ideas and concepts about RELATIONSHIPS. They are not jealous in the conventional sense.

Usually a twinflame relationship is female led. Like Shakti is on Shiva’s chest because she is the PRINCIPLE CREATIVE FORCE, similarly the partner with developed yin energy must lead the relationship with compassion and intuition.

All twinflames must go through a stage of SEPARATION. Yes as hard as that sounds, it happens a lot.

Most importantly Mary Magdalene tells me that even if we have not found our TWINFLAME, we must embark on the journey ourselves. In due course he will join.

Although you may be super attracted to your twinflame, this attraction is unlike the usual CONSUME and devour types. Your sexual desires come from a sacred space of love and not of fear and possession.

Twinflames are independent and in their power when they finally join in union.

Lastly, meeting your twinflame will be like the SECOND COMING OF CHRIST. Through sexual energy fusion, you can experience the COMING OF CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS. The most beautiful sexual alchemy.

You may say that all love is descended from the stars. Because, in a way, parts of us have “descended” from the stars. According to astronomers, our atoms and the atoms of our universe were created from stars that exploded. The remaining matter from the stars created our world–leaving us to be made of the same matter as the stars…Neil deGrasse Tyson

Yes people, we are star stuff, contemplating star stuff, says Carl Sagan. You, me, your lovers, my lovers, we are all made up of the same things. AS ABOVE, SO BELOW!

The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” ~~Carl Sagan

Is that not magical! I remember that no matter what happened to me and no matter how upset I was, whenever I looked up at the sky full of stars, I experienced a sense of magick! Mundane life lost its meaning and the incessant chatter and jargon of this 3D world ceased. I could sense the 5D world breathing, like a ginormous hologram!

The stars twinkled above and in my heart while I wrote under the dark skies, while I sang uninhibited and danced naked! Yes that is what they do to me, they make me lose sanity. That is not a problem.

For sanity is just adhering to societal rules and conventions. I never did that. Too much of an iconoclast! But the stars spoke of love. A love so intense that it feels like the slow dance of two black holes, consuming each other! Yes blackholes do consume each other!

I am someone who is looking for love. Real Love. Ridiculous… inconvenient… consuming.. “can’t live without each other” love. — Carrie Bradshaw -SATC

How many of you think of love like this? How many of you want to feel the rapture and ecstasy, the pain and pleasure of love? I know a lot of you want to, but is it so easy? We all know that it is not. The dating scene is beyond fucked up and each of us are left hollow as we try to find love and deep connection in our lives.

Which is why I want to begin my one of a kind dating portal. It will be inclusive to couples of all orientation. It will even have a Fetish community. There will be a special Twinflame page where people who are serious about finding their Twinflame, can open profiles.

We know that EVERYTHING IS ENERGY. Thought and intention can bring waves to fixed points so they form matter. You can literally “download” your Twinflame. Come on now my sweets, activate that mind(GEMINI).

The Age of Aquarius is bringing forth revolutionary new innovative thoughts and ideas on how we can change ourselves and the whole paradigm. It is happening now. Some of us are becoming more aware of the 3D Matrix and we are consciously working to demolish it and lift the veil.

The veil of Isis is a metaphor and allegorical artistic motif in which nature is personified as the goddess Isis covered by a veil, representing the inaccessibility of nature’s secrets. ~~WIKI

The feminine form clad by the VEIL. What does it remind you of? The hijab?

Yes dear friends, even in India, women covered their faces. As if echoing this great esoteric tenet. The greatest cosmic secrets are within the feminine form and her face, especially her eyes. Yes all women are the very embodiment of this Shakti energy.

That is why Kali is naked. For she is the GREAT COSMIC FORCE OF CREATION and there is no veil to shield her. She does not need to keep the feminine powers contained, for she is the ULTIMATE TRUTH, the SOURCE CODE, the blackness, the GREAT COSMIC DEEP!

The “Parting of the Veil”, “Piercing of the Veil”, “Rending of the Veil” or “Lifting of the Veil” refers, in the Western mystery tradition and contemporary witchcraft, to opening the “veil” of matter, thus gaining entry to a state of spiritual awareness in which the mysteries of nature are revealed. ~~WIKI

Stay with me….so on the premise that everything is energy….think of this…

You can conjure up energy with your MIND and this can bring to you the energies you want to manifest. For example if you want a Twinflame and join up this site, INTENDING to find that particular frequency, then yes, there is a VERY GOOD chance you might.

If you want to just answer booty calls, then do so by all means. It is your choice and you are manifesting what you wished for. Always be mindful of what you wish for, yes, it can come true!

All I am trying to say is that the world needs a LOVE REVOLUTION! Say what? People need to CONNECT! Do you agree that we are light beings composed of sacred kisses, intimate touches, sweet whispers and a heart full of love. Love is a frequency!

All I am trying to expound on over here that you know the resonance of your Twinflame! Even if you haven’t met them. Some Energy-Workers like myself have been born with an obsession to uncovering the deeper truths behind LOVE, SEX, DEATH and REBIRTH!

And I am obsessed with these themes and have been since I can remember. I have a love for the macabre and a very keep interest in serial killers and the like. I think it is Pluto in the second making an aspect to Uranus in the 8th in my natal chart.

This Pluto in the second is also the reason I decided to take up healing as one of my primary focuses in life. And then Uranus in Scorpio in the 8th will make one obsess over the occult and sexual motifs. You see I like to explore the very depths of our existence as a Philosopher and Mystic!

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves…” Shakespeare

The stars above guide us as we are miniature versions of them. Yes we are.

“As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul…” Hermes Trismegistus

The first kiss between Twinflames is a topic a lot of you want to know about and again this info I give is the result of speaking to hundreds of couples in relationships, divorced, dating and even from singles all over the World. That is just the research part of it, the other ways I have gathered Twinflame info is through meditation, NLP exercises, discussing with my Guru and other mystics.

Another extremely potent way of dissolving your EGO and connecting to your Twinflame is through shamanic plant wisdom and other psychedelics. Yes a huge psychedelic revival is on its way and the big boys of the Silicon Valley are heading this movement by micro dosing and using other psychotropics to be one-up on the AI. Psychedelics is one way to evolve and integrate AI within our paradigm of understanding. In fact articles are saying that they give humans an edge over the robots. Yay to that! Psychonaughts have been screaming this from the roof tops for many years.

Under the guidance of a healer and meditation expert, you can try to dissolve this EGO self and try to enter a meditative state to sense the resonance of your Twinflame. Look if you are already committed, then please do so with your own discretion. Do not hurt your partner with the Twinflame obsession. It might be useful to enter into self questioning as to why you are looking for your Twinflame?

Okay I will tell you something. All the Twinflame couples I have worked with, have known, all their lives that they were looking for someone. Even while being with other people, they did not stop feeling this way. Now this feeling is not the usual shallow boredom that attacks so many relationships. Yes boredom is the main culprit! And if you are looking for your Twinflame because you are BORED, then please forget it. You are NOT READY!

Only if you have given your heart over and over in love and been hurt, and you still want to find that person because you are convinced that they EXIST, then you might be coming closer. Maybe you are already physically close! This is unlikely though, unless your pineal gland is completely calcified.

Usually if you are in the physical vicinity of your Twinflame, your energy will be in TOTAL FLUX. Heart beating like crazy, head reeling, weird feeling in our bellies…yes you will feel all of it. Unless you are spiritually empowered. Because then with meditation you have strengthened your individual morphic resonance which will better connect you to your Twinflame frequency!

If you are single, then the world is your oyster and tune right into the right frequency. DO NOT GIVE UP! No, perseverance is the key to such endeavours. Never forget that!

Who is Tara? Tara is the second manifestation of the MOTHER MATRIX and a part of DASAMAHAVIDYA. She is also refereed to as BHAVATARINI, as in she helps cross over this samsaric ocean.

Each MAHAVIDYA or aspect of the DEVI is related to a planet. TARA rules over JUPITER, the planet of good luck and EXPANSION!

Tara is the very embodiment of LOVE and she is the very same as KALI and KAMAKHYA according to the YOGINI TANTRA.

In Tantric literature, there are three manifestations of Tara~~ Eka Jata, who manifests as Kaivalya(ULTIMATE PEACE) or unity with the Absolute; Ugra Tara, who protects us from the miseries of existence and Nila Saraswati, who imparts Jnana or knowledge.

Tara is the presiding Goddess of Speech and the Shakti of Hiranya Garba Saura Brahma. Hiranyagarbha being a Sanskrit compound meaning “the Golden Egg” or “the Egg of imperishable matter.”

In Hindu cosmology, it refers to “the golden egg or womb” from which the universe was born. In the Vedas and Brahmanas, Brahma is not named, and Hiranyagarbha was the source of all things. In the Manusamhita, Hiranyagarbha was Brahma, who divided the egg into two parts, the heavens and the earth.

H.P.B refers to Hiranyagarbha as the MUNDANE EGG, androgynous or non-dual, after which it was divided into Viraj and Vach, the male and female principles. The Secret Doctrine’s Stanzas of DZYAN state that the Hiranyagarbha is in itself triple (Hiranyagarbha, Sakti, Sankara, or Brahma, Vishnu and Siva).

Tara is the very essence of all THREE- the TRINITY! And will in time bring about SURYA PRALAYA.

Pralaya (devanāgarī: प्रलय) is a Sanskrit word that means “dissolution” or “melting away” (from laya: “to dissolve” and pra “away”). In Hinduism it refers to a period where the universe is in a state of non-existence, which happens when the three gunas or qualities of matter are in perfect balance. The idea of pralaya is part of a cyclic model of the universe (present in several Eastern philosophies as well as in Theosophy) where the cosmos is said to appear and disappear regularly within the Absolute Reality:

As the sun arises every morning on our objective horizon out of its (to us) subjective and antipodal space, so does the Universe emerge periodically on the plane of objectivity, issuing from that of subjectivity—the antipodes of the former. This is the “Cycle of Life.” And as the sun disappears from our horizon, so does the Universe disappear at regular periods, when the “Universal night” sets in. The Hindoos call such alternations the “Days and Nights of Brahma,” or the time of Manvantara and that of Pralaya (dissolution). The Westerns may call them Universal Days and Nights if they prefer.

~~Theosophy Wiki

What is a SURYA or SOLAR PRALAYA?

A solar pralaya comes when seven Planetary Chains have been accomplished:

Within one solar period (of a p[ralaya]. and m[anvantara].) occur seven such minor periods [rounds], in an ascending scale of progressive development. . . . The solar period [is composed] of 49 rounds.

~~Theosophy Wiki

While immersing oneself in Tara sadhana, you must remember that you are calling upon the ULTIMATE FEMININE MANIFESTATION OF POWER, therefore be prepared to immerse yourself in her literature and dhyana or meditation.

When Tara is invoked successfully, we can truly see ourselves as the GREAT EXPRESSION OF DIVINITY we truly are. Creativity is supercharged when she is awakened in our beings. It is believed that Vyasa who wrote the Vedas wanted to immerse himself in Tara worship.

He tried and he tried, to no avail. Therefore he travels to Mahachina(Tibet), met Shakyamuni Buddha(yes the ORIGINAL dude) and learnt to invoke Tara correctly. He worked on the eighteen Mahapuranas after invoking the Tara energy. It was her grace.

Tara is above Maya as she is the CREATRIX of it all. One can achieve all material success with her grace, but she is the GREAT LIBERATOR. As in she shows us the way out of this MAYA or the GREAT ILLUSION.

No one can be certain as to who invoked Tara first- Bengal or Tibet? In Bengal(where I come from, the very heart of Tantra) Mahavidya texts such as Mahabhagavata-purana and Brhaddharma-purana originated and the SHAKTA or devi worship is very much a part of our psyche. Bengal is one state which practices no FEMALE FOETICIDE as we see our daughters as expressions of the GODDESS.

Bengalis are true FEMININE ENERGY worshippers and we birthed many refined forms of Goddess worship. Tibetan Buddhism had twenty forms of Tara. Of this White and Green Tara are popular. OM TARE TU TARE TURE SOHA!

I love Tara with all my heart, whether she is in Hindu form or Buddhist. I practice a lot of Vajraya meditations, so Green and White Tara are my absolute favourites. Black Tara provides hardcore protection if you need that and Blue Tara is NILA SARASWATI, a very esoteric form of Saraswati and the PATRON OF ARTS.

I have been invoking TARA since I have been a child and she has never failed to interact with me. She does so through numbers, colours, scents, memories and sometimes dreams. She is my companion when I enter meditation and I never leave my bed without saying the Tara Gayatri.

Aum Tarawai cha vidmahe

Maha ugrawai dhimahi

Tanno devi prachodayat.

These devotional or Shakta songs dedicated to Tara have made me cry and laugh so many times. They have such deep meaning and such musings…SUBLIME!!!